The Misplaced Ignorance of Ken Ichijouji
by Hayase Yuuki
Summary: Ken has just joined the ranks of the Digidestined, but it isn't an easy journey. After several incidences when he visits Odaiba, Ken can't understand why the others react so acidly toward him. He's just trying to find how to understand people. One-shot.


**The Misplaced Ignorance of Ken Ichijouji**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters. If I did, I'd be breaking up ships left and right and spamming the fandom with my own.

**Author's Note:** Howdy y'all! I'm taking a small break from _Ukiyo_, but it's definitely on its way to the next chapter! Lots of things have been happening, which is a poor excuse for the delay, but the worst of it is writer's block. Let's explore the mind of Ken Ichijouji for the time being, and hope that this unlocks something in my brain for Tai and Yama. Enjoy! P.S.: I'm not sure why Ken is so quirky in my head.

* * *

I just don't get people.

I'm not sure if it's been a part of me since birth, or if the Dark Spore had anything to do with it, but I was never able to understand how others worked. Understand, though, that this doesn't mean I'm not in tune with my emotions. Quite the contrary. I'm well-attuned to my emotions. Admittedly, though, they tended to be negative ones ever since my older brother Osamu died. Ever since that day when everything changed and I foolishly crowned myself the Digimon Kaiser. Ever since my Digimon partner died, to my limited knowledge at the time. Doesn't that make sense? And no, before you think it, before you _say it_, I'm not vying for anyone's attention - is it so wrong to assess my own feelings? Let me just swim through my mind first. I figure that's the least I can do, especially after I acted so rashly.

The best way to solve a problem is, not surprisingly, to start from the beginning. From there, you just retrace your steps slowly, and push aside shame if you find you need to back up time and time again. This is some of the best advice Osamu gave me when we were much younger, and it's helped me countless times. But, well, now that I think about it, I often only used it to solve petty problems: very external conflicts, I suppose you can say. Things like mathematical equations, figuring out how soccer teams worked and finding the path to the goal with the least amount of work, finding a person's weakest point in judo. These things came naturally, and I never made a mistake. I was arrogant then, but I can't help it. Osamu helped me so much. In the end, I think he was really the person who made me so confident in my skills, even to point of a superiority complex.

Of course, Wormmon also played a grand role in my character. He was the only one who believed that I was still that lonely boy from what seems to be eons past. Where Osamu strengthened my mind, it was Wormmon who believed in my heart. If I were to be told that I held the crest of kindness during my horrible reign as the Kaiser, chances are I would have laughed out loud and crushed something. A branch, maybe. I don't know. It would have been problematic and havoc would have ensued. Daisuke and his friends would have a few taunts on hand, I'd chuckle, think they're stupid, and the fights would begin.

But things are different now. It's been difficult, but I've recovered a lot of the memory that I had lost. Wormmon is still alive, though still a baby Digimon. My parents are glad that I'm back home. Daisuke even asked me to join their team. I suppose if anyone's going to stop a set of evil monsters from taking over the Digital World, one of the best people to ask would be the one who tried himself. And failed. Saving the Digital World is one thing, but working with a team is something completely and utterly different. Truth be told, I'm much more frightened of social interactions with the Digidestined than risking my life to save an entire world from collapsing.

It's clear that Iori is not ready to accept me into their group. Yes, yes, I understand, but I just wish they could see that I've changed, too. Daisuke was the only one who was completely willing to have me in their circle. (I still scratch my head about that.) Just yesterday, I had seen Miyako walking toward her school, probably to check the computer lab for one thing or another. I mustered up the friendliest smile I could and sidled up to her. She looked rather shocked, but I was determined to become a part of this team. What other chance would I have to relive the childhood I had lost? "Hello, Miyako," I said, keeping my voice steady and my tone polite, yet casual. Speaking to people could be very hard work. "How are you today?"

I was under the impression that many people often answered this simple question with, "Fine, thanks, and yourself?" or something close to it. What I was not aware of was that Miyako had possessed the uncanny ability to talk for quite a while without tiring. What's more was that she happened to lack a filter for the content of her conversation. I did not expect to be subject to such a broad range of topics. But there was one scenario that particularly irked me.

"So I was in class with Mr. Iwata, right, and it's math so I'm pretty good at that! I know I am! I mean, everyone in the class knows I am! I mean, hey, I'm sure you're familiar with that feeling, right, being a genius and all, right Ken? Anyway, so here's what happened," Miyako said. Or I suppose I should say _chatter_, because _said_ doesn't seem to be anywhere near as fast as she was actually speaking. "We had an exam yesterday. Super easy stuff. Things that I'm sure you'd just scoff at! But I was absolutely certain I got every single question right. I don't really have to study for these kinds of things, you know? So imagine my surprise when I get my exam back and I have a score of 60%!"

"That...that would be surprising, especially if you expected to do well," I replied, biting back a haughty bit of arrogance that still looped around my system every once in a while. "What happened? I assume you didn't actually deserve that grade."

"Absolutely! Everything was 100% perfecto! I even asked around. People had the same answers as I did, but they weren't marked off for anything! Of course, I went to Mr. Iwata about it, but he just brushed me off..." Miyako muttered as we headed up the stairs. "So I guess that's the grade I have to deal with. I mean, I guess it's not too big of a problem considering the rest of my grades are up to par..."

That is what irked me. Why, that was preposterous, anyone could see that! If it were me, I definitely would not stand for it, not even for a moment. If everyone else had the same answer and scored higher, that must merit some sort of foul play. As such, I thought it would be the right and friendly thing to do if I were to offer her some advice. After all, she was the victim here! Something had to be done! Though it is trite, acts like this could easily be reversed. Of course, I vocalized this to its fullest extent. "Miyako, certainly you don't mean leaving things as is," I said, making sure my voice was still steady and friendly. "If you're sure you did well, you should go back and ask Mr. Iwata to reconsider."

"Yeah, but...I guess he gave me that for a reason, right? Maybe he forgot to mark everyone else's test wrong or something, or maybe he just marked mine by accident," the girl mused aloud. She sighed and put her hands behind her head as she looked up at the clear blue sky. I tried to figure out what her body language meant; perhaps it was a reflection of nonchalance? No, to me it seemed like she had given up.

"But...you said that your answers were absolutely correct."

"Yeah..."

"So...so why not...well, ask him to...look at your exam again?"

Miyako hesitated. But why? Doesn't it make sense? I was about to repeat myself when she said, "I did, but he didn't want to. He said we're not allowed to argue. He said that he takes his time when he grades so that there's no room for mistakes," she said with a sigh. "And well, you can't really argue with a teacher when you're just a kid. This is Japan, you know? We're supposed to be good little kids and we sit down and we clean the classroom and we give answers when we're asked, even if we already know what it is and the person they asked doesn't."

I felt my lips twitch into a scowl as she offered her uncanny reasoning. I personally couldn't care less if I were in Japan or Germany or Tahiti or on File Island. If I am correct and someone says otherwise, I will not back down unless they can prove me otherwise. And I need hard facts. If the opposing party cannot provide this, then I am right. That's just how it goes. I mean, that _is_ how the world works, right? It is the most logical path. I told Miyako all of this and she was silent for a moment, probably thinking about how to respond. "It is the logical thing to do," I reiterated sheepishly, looking toward the ground. "You don't deserve that grade. Nor that treatment."

Her face turned beet red as she looked back at me. We had stopped some time ago and I hadn't noticed. She looked at me and managed a small smile before saying, "You're so cool, Ken! Totally the cool guy I saw on TV! Well, you know, before you attacked us in the Digital World and all that!" With that, she skipped off to the computer lab, leaving me on my own in her school hall. I think I might have heard her exclaiming that she would march over to Mr. Iwata's classroom before the end of the week. Honestly, I think that bit got me a more than a foot into the door of the Digidestined. And I think I deserve a pat on the back for that, because I hear that she barged into Iwata's office and gave him a piece of her mind, mathematical proofs in hand. She got that 100%. As it should be! She deserved it. Good for her!

With this triumph, I decided that this was a great improvement to my current situation with the soon-to-be heroes of the Digital World. I turned my heel and walked down the steps and onto the soccer field. The grass had been cut recently, and it smelled wonderful. It had been such a long time since I kicked a ball just for fun, and not to claim another empty victory. Hands in my pockets, I walked toward the field at a leisurely pace.

Before I could make it there, I was stopped by Takeru and Hikari who happened to be walking in the opposite direction. I bowed deeply to them as a sign of respect, which they acknowledged with a laugh. I considered them to be the most experienced of their elite team. As the Kaiser, I remembered being the most wary of them, second and third only to Daisuke. "Why are you all the way out here?" asked Hikari. "Something special planned?" I had a feeling that she was still cautious of my presence, especially since I lived so far from Odaiba. Sendai was a good two hours by bullet train, a good 200 or so miles apart.

Takeru was carrying a composition notebook and was standing by Hikari's side. His body language suggested that was protective of the girl. I made a mental note of this and decided to stay away from the relationship game at this point, especially between these two. Gulping, I straightened myself up and regained the tone of voice I had been using with Miyako earlier. This was very difficult, but the more I used it, the more I actually _felt_ like a different person. It was quite refreshing, to tell you the truth. "Good afternoon, Takeru, Hikari. I, uh, just thought that it would be a good idea to get a change of scenery," I replied. I couldn't exactly tell them that I was trying to befriend them, could I? Would that have been too forward? They might even think me insane, or worse, some sort of hippie. Oh, yes, that would be quite the stir, wouldn't it? The all-mighty Digimon Kaiser, when stripped of all his power, was actually a peace-loving hippie at heart! Well, I wouldn't say that's entirely incorrect, but that's beside the point.

"And by 'change of scenery', you decided to pay for a round-trip ticket to Odaiba instead of a quick stop over at the next station," Takeru said, his eyebrow raised. At first, I was afraid he was looking down on me. I was still having trouble with reacting to that. But I took a deep breath and noticed that there was a hint of a smile on his face. He was joking! That must be it. "I guess you are pretty loaded. After all, you _are_ the resident genius of Japan."

I blinked, struggling to make sure that he was still being humorous. After a moment's delay, I burst out into uncharacteristic laughter. The couple stepped back a bit; I don't blame them. I was rather startled myself. Wormmon was truly the only other one who had seen me laugh like that before. Well, one that wasn't decidedly evil, anyway. They chuckled together nervously and excused themselves. "I've got a story bubbling in my mind," Takeru said brightly. "Maybe I'll let you read it sometime."

"I would like that," I replied politely.

"And Taichi's expecting me at home," added Hikari, who began to toy with her digital camera idly. "See ya around, Ken!" With that, they continued on their way as I stood there, waving like a bloody idiot. I had the feeling that they weren't being completely honest with me, but I couldn't bother myself with such minor details. Wasn't I the one terrorizing their lives just a few weeks ago? It was nice enough for them to actually stick around and talk to me. I would be telling myself that for a good hour or two while I was on the train ride back to Sendai. But let's not get too far ahead.

Off I went again, making my way to the soccer field. I whistled a cheerful tune and admired the sky. It really had been a long time since I had been out of the house. Being a boy genius meant that I didn't have to go to school, because I could pass all the exams they could throw at me without doing more than batting an eyelash. But this also meant that I didn't have much else to do than bum around at home. I realized how ridiculous my existence was when I was busy taking my two hour bath: honestly, who really takes a bath for that long these days? Everyone has some place to be, people to see! I had cameras and local paparazzi hounding me for a time, both before and after the days of the Digimon Kaiser. But in between these stints in time, I was just in the Digital World, looking for the next challenger. I had been classified as "missing" in the real world for three months, and when I came back, it was a dizzying experience. Sure, part of it may have been because I lost my memory to amnesia, but it was the worst sort of time lag you could ever imagine. I felt like I had been in the Digital World for years, but time passed so slowly in the real world. I found myself wishing that I could travel through time, even when I could barely remember my name. Quite a feat to accomplish when you've lost your memory, but the heart and the mind still want what they want. And it was no use imagining, either. I was never one for creating my own worlds. I suppose I was more fit to rule them, but even then, that didn't turn out too well.

I reached the soccer field, which was surrounded by a stadium. I put my hands on the cool railing and looked down. A small team of boys were occupying the green, still in their school uniforms. An official game probably hadn't been scheduled for the day. I was about to take my leave when I recognized a familiar set of goggles on a brown-haired boy. Of course! Daisuke was sure to be here! Typical, typical. I have no right to say anything like that, though, because here I am. I found myself chortling, and others walked past me quickly. I'll have to remember that - laughing to myself, talking to myself, that sort of stuff isn't immediately accepted in public. That, and monologuing. When I was younger, Osamu used to share his old comics with me. He'd make fun of the bad guy all the time, because the villain would almost always get caught in the midst of his speech of how he wants to rule the world. I really had no idea that I would do exactly the same thing myself. Sorry about that, Osamu. I do feel a bit ridiculous about it now.

Taking a deep breath, I mustered up a fair amount of courage before walking down the concrete steps of the stadium. It looked like the boys were just about ready to pack up and go home, and I wanted to catch Daisuke before he was too far ahead. Timing was very important, especially in social situations. I find it difficult to believe that I was able to handle all those interviews when I was still the boy genius. And kicking puppies. God, what is _wrong_ with me...I am sure that time is past me now, but of all things to survive my memory, did it have to be that one? I shook my head in an attempt to free myself from the horrors of my past and arrived at the green.

Daisuke was busy toweling off and taking a swig of water from the nearby fountain when I approached him. I didn't have to try so hard to bring up a smile. This boy was the one who extended his hand without hesitation to me, and I must say, I was quite relieved to see that everyone else had left before I said hello. I felt that I hadn't heard Daisuke's raspy voice in a long while when he grinned and shook my hand. Absolutely something that I'm not used to. I was surprised; this was Japan, and handshakes were not common. Hermit that I am, I'm not too fond of the idea of people touching me. I bristled a bit, my eyes wide with shock, before I regained control of my emotions. Awkwardly I shook his hand as well, though my grip was nowhere near as strong as his. "Hello, Daisuke," I said. "I thought I'd drop by and say hello."

He slapped his goggles onto his head. I think if it were me, that would have hurt and left a mark, but I believe Daisuke is hard-headed enough that he doesn't feel such things. "Cool! How's it goin'? Where'd you come from, anyway?" he asked, looking around the stadium.

"Um, from Sendai."

"Yeah, I know _that_, but did you come from up there? Did you see anyone else you knew?" the soccer player continued drying himself off. I didn't know a person could sweat so profusely. "I mean, you're still celebrity status, am I right? Wouldn't it be weird or something? Gotta be careful about attracting attention to yourself!"

"So says the person who yells loud enough to be heard from this stadium to the school building," I remarked with a raised brow. Daisuke is not the first person I would associate with _inconspicuous_. Far from it. "I could tell when you scored a goal when I was well away in the hallways, thanks."

He made a face and took a final gulp from the faucet before wiping the excess liquid from his lips with his sleeve. "So what brings you here, Ken? You're, uh, not trying to take over this place too, are you?" Though I knew he was joking, I felt that there was a slight tremor in his voice that indicated he was still cautious of me. I sighed. I knew not to expect anyone to accept me so willingly, but I had to admit I felt a pang of disappointment right then. I was foolish to think that carefree Daisuke would treat me like one of the group right off the bat. This didn't mean that it didn't hurt. Unable to do much, I looked at the ground, feeling my lips curl into a small smile. If anything, at least I felt more at ease with this boy than everyone else.

"I'm just passing through," I replied quietly. "And...well, I thought...I should get to know everyone a little better. I live the furthest from all of you, so...I mean, I know Wormmon would want me to make an effort. And I figured that since you're the one who talked to me first...it would be a good idea to reciprocate. You know. Just...I'm trying to fit in, I suppose is what I'm trying to say."

Suddenly, I felt his arm around my neck. He was still warm from soccer practice (though thankfully dry by this point), and he radiated energy as he pulled me through the field. "Wanna kick the ball around a bit?" he asked, as good-natured as ever. I nodded, as it had been a while since I had done something so soothingly simple. My muscle memory would surely help me function as I had before.

However, things didn't go as planned. I was certain I was much faster than he was, and much better with my technique, but I was also out of practice. I had spent what seemed to be the last decade sitting on my throne of lies in the Digital World, standing around only to devise plans to ruin the Digidestined. What a terrible idea! I willed my body to keep up with the simple practice of kickback, but that proved to be more difficult than I had liked. Embarrassment flew through my will without so much as a whisper, and I felt my cheeks redden as I huffed after the ball. Daisuke was laughing. No malice was intended, I think, but something snapped. I had to bite my tongue to keep from insulting the one person who was the most likely to be my first true friend. Though I was able to control my mind, I could not say the same of my muscles. As Daisuke laughed, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, my body moved like lightning as I returned the ball to him with a massive kick. And there was the talent that I was renowned for back in Sendai. Daisuke wasn't expecting it. The black and white rubber ball hit him square in the face, leaving an unsightly red mark.

Realizing what I had done, I ran toward him, stringing together a plethora of apologies that no longer sounded like an language I'd ever heard of. I tentatively put my hand on his shoulder to try and lift his head, but he pushed me away violently. I fell backwards and looked up at him. His nose was bleeding freely. I scrambled to rummage the handkerchief from my jacket, but he began yelling curse after curse at me. I started feeling dizzy and awfully upset; I could tell I was on the verge of tears. How could I have destroyed something so simple? Why did I succumb so quickly to pride, even when I didn't even think of it? Passersby above the stadium began to slow down, taking in the scene between the two of us down below. Here I was, on my back, while Daisuke howled.

What did I even want at this point? Sympathy? There was no way I could ever have that, so I scratched that off my list. A moment of silence? No, it was my fault, after all, so Daisuke's reaction was completely understandable. What I wanted was a chance to apologize and explain myself, but there was no room for that at the moment. I didn't even know our language had so many curse words. I did what I believe any person lost in panic would do at this point: I scrambled to my feet and ran off. I don't think Daisuke even realized I was gone, because I could still hear his distinct voice from the locker rooms. I was alone there, so I took the opportunity to huddle in the corner and let out a few tears of frustration. Breathing deeply, I washed my face after a few moments and rushed to the teacher's lounge, where I convinced one of the off-duty teachers to procure a bag of ice for me (I had to break him away from a female teacher, which was more than I cared to handle, but needless to say, this was an emergency situation). After thanking them, I ran back out to the field, cold compress in hand. To this day I still don't believe Daisuke stopped trying to insult me the whole ten minutes I was away, but he would tell you a different story.

"I-I'm so sorry," I apologized repeatedly, my voice cracking under the stress of it all. He looked at me, eyebrows slanted downward in anger, but when I handed him the bag of ice, his expression softened. When he accepted it, I pulled out my handkerchief once more to help mop up any blood that might have escaped from his nose. I held it to his nose so the pressure would stop the bleeding while he cooled his face with the ice, which he wrapped in his sweaty towel. We sat on the grass toward the sidelines, silent as the ice and the cloth did their respective jobs.

"Shoulda known better than to challenge the kid who was on TV for soccer," Daisuke mumbled. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me. He then looked at me and began to laugh again. Needless to say, I was confused once more. Here we are, sitting on the soccer field, _not even on benches_, and he's got a face full of blood. And he's laughing. Why would anyone do that? To make matters even more ridiculous, I started to laugh as well. Not that I found any of this remotely funny, but there was something infectious about that boy's laughter. It was impossible not to laugh when he was, so I suppose I sort of let myself go. What a strange thing to have happen!

"Let's get something to eat after this," he said. "I know this great noodle cart that always runs by the kendo dojo where Iori practices! We should definitely go! How 'bout it?"

"Um...right now?" I asked, hesitant. I told my parents that I would be out all day anyway, but I had never gone out to dinner with a friend before. I may be jumping the gun when I call Daisuke my _friend_, of course, but I can dream.

"Why not?" Daisuke stretched his arms and rubbed a finger under his nose, checking to see if he was still bleeding. "Is my face still red?"

I shook my head. Most of the red was gone, and I figure that it's all right to round down on such occasions. If I had to make an educated guess, I would say that only 12% of the redness remained. If it were a percent higher, I probably would have told him yes. Anyway, shoving all those technicalities aside, I shrugged and so did he and we were on our way. Truth be told I felt rather unsettled. Instinct tells me that in many social situations, if you pass by a place where you know friend is, chances are you will check said place to see if said friend is present. When that happens, I believe it is customary to invite said friend to whatever event you have planned. Oh, dear.

I follow Daisuke out of the stadium and we hop onto a bus. My nervous habit started to kick in. My hands always twitch when I feel something bad is about to happen. Even when I was a tyrant, the habit did not leave me. And here it was again as we approached the kendo dojo. Like I was saying before, I knew full well that none of the Digidestined would accept me right away. But Iori was another story altogether. He seemed to breathe poison whenever I was around. Certainly, I understand why he would feel that way! I've said it before and I'm not afraid to say it again! But I think he's already blocked out any chance of forgiveness. It isn't right for me to say _"It's not fair!"_, but would it be all right if I still felt that way? Because I do. And I'm not entirely sure how to deal with it.

It was as I feared. I'm not surprised that I was correct, though I could hope for better things. But we stopped by the Hiida dojo, with the boisterous Daisuke leading the way, tissues hanging from his nose to as a stopper just in case it decided to bleed again. This boy was quite the character. In a way it made me feel a bit sick to my stomach. How could a human being possess so much positive energy? I would surely explode if I were to act in the same manner. We stepped into the clean dojo and saw that the only people there were Iori and an elderly man, who I assume was Grandfather Hiida. Suddenly I felt very nervous, and I actually felt sick to my stomach. Iori was glaring at me with cold eyes through his armored mask; the _men_ part of the standard kendo attire. I shuffled into a corner, well behind Daisuke at this point. What could I say to this young boy that would have him reconsider? I would beg on my hands and knees if I had to, but intuition told me that such actions would not be beneficial to my cause.

Instead I just bowed deeply and watched the two face off, the young boy and the old man. Their movements were deft, swift, and precise. Having studied a bit of kendo myself, I felt a twinge of excitement in my blood as I allowed my eyes to follow the fight. It had been quite a while since I had been in a fair martial arts scuffle, and it was exhilarating to be able to catch a match. There were no judges around, but even this unofficial duel was intense. The energy in the room silenced even Daisuke, whose jaw had fallen open in awe. I used to respect the serenity that surrounded the very essence of martial arts; it was nice to have that feeling back as I took everything in. The sharp, clear _kiai_ of the combatants, steady and sudden with each blow; the crack of the bamboo against the hard shell-like armor; the acrid smell of sweat that emitted a fierce desire for victory! It was a marvel to behold. They did not move quickly, as one might deduce from watching too many martial arts films. No, kendo was a sport of finesse. Much of the match was forged in silence, only broken by their warrior's yells.

I must give pause to admire the kendo point system. It was one built on hard logic and timing. The duelists face off, swords always raised. They are poised and ready to strike at any given moment. The most professional of these fighters will never strike first. It is similar to watching two lions battle for a mate or dominance. They circle each other endlessly, and wait for the perfect moment to strike. They cannot yell too early, or their opponent will know exactly what they are aiming for. The general areas to strike are the head, the midsection, the wrist, and the throat. An imminently awesome sort of sport to watch, it was breathtaking. Until I realized that the young Iori held the same steely regard toward kendo as he did toward me. He pulled off his mask and continued to glare at me. It was unsettling, considering I just realized that I felt like prey under a lion's watchful eye. I swallowed hard, determined not to let my fear show. He was a mere boy, after all, but he was also a part of the team that I had just joined. It was my duty to incorporate myself as soon as possible.

"What are you doing here?" said Iori, voice iron. I saw his grandfather look over curiously for a moment before allowing us a moment of privacy.

"We're gonna get noodles," Daisuke said before I could reply. "Wanna come with?"

"I'm not talking about you, Daisuke," Iori grumbled, eyes never leaving mine.

I took a deep breath and bowed again. "That was a wonderful match," I said, admiration in my voice. It really was quite a sight; I knew a good fighter when I saw one, and this boy had a lot of potential. Even though he was defending the Digital World in his spare time, he didn't look like he was out of practice at all. I wanted to say all of this to him, but I don't think his grandfather would follow. I kept things simple. I decided to play it cautious.

"No one asked you," the small boy snapped. My hands began to twitch again. Usually this was not an issue, but Iori's sharp eyes darted straight to them and his expression hardened. "What is it? Do you want to hit me now? Is that why you came here?"

"N-No, not at all!" I answered with raised hands. I stood there dumbly with my head down, wondering what Osamu would say at this point. If my brother were here, what would he do? Think, I had to think! My brother was involved with martial arts before his untimely passing, and he would often tell me tales of how he would beat everyone in the dojo. Even though he was at the top of the ranking, he would still appreciate it when someone pointed out a flaw, even if it were a novice. _I might be great, but I've still only got one pair of eyes,_ he told me once. _The best martial artists know when to accept constructive criticism, and they'll appreciate it. Believe me._

Why, that's it! The Hiidas were definitely high-ranking martial artists! The best thing I could do for them is compliment them and offer a bit of criticism as well! Easy. No problem. It was just like speaking with Miyako! The only difference was that she had a definite problem, one that had a clear, logical answer. Martial arts is very similar. If your form is not perfect, then you are not perfect. That's what Osamu taught me.

"Well? Why are you here? Answer me!" barked Iori, his voice getting noticeably louder. Grandfather Hiida raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

"U-Um." I stood my ground, my head still bowed politely. "I came to visit, that's all. If I may say, I enjoyed watching your match. It was absolutely splendid. You both move like water. But may I also say, with all due respect, your footwork might need a little bit of fine-tuning...I could almost always tell where you were going to strike next."

I was rather proud of myself, but when I stood back up, Daisuke was looking at me as if my head had been replaced with that of a Numemon. I felt my hands twitch again when I noticed a fire ignite in Iori's eyes. He took a heavy breath, and the way he moved forward made me think he was going to strike me with his sword, but he simply exhaled and walked off. Perhaps it was more aggressive than that - he _stormed_ off. He was clearly upset. Well, I guess we won't be best friends today, much less go out for a bowl of noodles together. I mentally stopped my lip from quivering with frustration when I looked to Grandfather Hiida to apologize. I was certain that he would be upset with me for insulting his talented grandson, but he was smiling at me. "I was going to tell him the same thing, young man," the old man said gently. "You've a good eye. Are you a friend of Iori's? I apologize for his behaviour."

"Well, he's actually _my_ friend, gramps, but soon he'll be good friends with Iori, too!" exclaimed Daisuke, who put his arm around my neck again. I suppose this is a very friendly gesture, but I still reacted to it as if it were a shock. "I guess we'll just get noodles some other time! Make sure to tell him that Ken and I will be at the usual noodle cart!"

Grandfather Hiida laughed and nodded, sending us on our way. He gave my shoulder a pat and I smiled at him. I sincerely hoped that Iori and I would become friends soon.

Daisuke and I walked for a few minutes along the street before stopping at a quaint noodle cart next to a convenience store. I had never eaten at such a restaurant, if you could call it that considering it had no walls, but it was a welcome experience. We took up two of the five seats set up on the surprisingly sturdy counter and ordered two bowls of char-siu ramen, which came up in less than two minutes. "Wow, the service here is quite fast," I remarked as I picked up my chopsticks. "And this looks delicious."

"Doesn't it? I told you this place is great! One day, I'm gonna have a noodle cart of my own!" Daisuke agreed, his eyes sparkling as he shoveled the hot noodles into his mouth. I thought he must have burned his tongue when he tossed his head back, but it turns out that this was just how he enjoyed food. Steam rose from the noodles, making him look like some sort of dragon. His dream was a little odd, but somehow it suited him. I shrugged and laughed as I blew on my own noodles to cool them down.

Before I could take a bite of the ramen, I set my chopsticks down. I was still thinking about Iori and how he stormed out. I couldn't explain it, but I was feeling very upset. My stomach still hurt and a part of me was actually quite angry. I was just giving the boy my perspective! Was that so wrong? "Um, Daisuke, do you think Iori's...er, mad at me?" I asked timidly.

The answer was muffled by a bowlful of ramen noodles. Daisuke's cheeks were puffed up, making him resemble a chipmunk storing food in its mouth. My eyes widened unconsciously when I noticed him. "I' wuzz a bi' mee' a' oo," he said. Or, I mean, I _think_ that's what he said. He gulped down his noodles and tried again. "It was a bit mean of you," he reiterated, clearly this time. "I mean, you just don't go around saying stuff like, 'That was awesome but here's your mistakes, now fix 'em!' to people! Especially if you want 'em to be your friend. It sorta makes you look like a...like a...an ignopotamus."

"...Pardon?"

"An ignopotamus. Right? Like a person that's, uhm...ignorant?"

"...You mean an ignoramus?"

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I must say, that is a bit peculiar," I thought aloud. "When I saw Miyako earlier, she was telling me about her problems. I told her what she should do to fix her mistake, and she just accepted it with a smile. Why didn't Iori react the same way? That was essentially the same thing, wasn't it?"

The boy was busy gulping down the broth left in the bowl. I waited patiently for him to answer, taking a few mouthfuls of the hearty stuff myself. It was actually delicious, as Daisuke said. I had never had ramen before, so now I see why so many people enjoy it. I was a few bites in when Daisuke turned back to me with an incredulous grin. "Y'know, that's just because she's Miyako. She's a girl. And you're a guy who was on TV, our age. Do you see where I'm going with this?" I shook my head. He sighed and put his arm around my shoulders again. I think I was staring to get used to it, because I didn't flinch this time. "Look, Ken, you're a guy. I guess girls think you're kind of a...a dreamboat, or something. Don't ask me. I don't see it. I don't get it at all. But the point is, it's probably easier to get her to listen to you than Iori."

"I don't understand how that makes me an ignoramus."

"What's there to get? Everyone's different, Ken," Daisuke said, rubbing his belly. "And you're ignoring that fact. People aren't, like...math equations, or whatever. They're not absolute. Is that the word? I dunno. But Iori's a proud guy. He won't take to criticism like that easy. Miyako, she's a bit of a ditz, but she means well, and she's more likely to listen to reason and logic. See, I only know this stuff since I'm, well, y'know, the leader of the Digidestined - "

"...I thought it was Takeru..."

"I'M the leader...of the Digidestined," he said with an exaggerated cough. "Anyway, I know these kids pretty well. And I think I know you, too, because I just got a feeling. You went the wrong way! Everyone does once in a while! Sure, you almost destroyed an entire world, but hey, you can't win 'em all..."

I kicked Daisuke's shin when I noticed the noodle cart owner was giving us odd looks. I coughed and looked up at the man as a signal to Daisuke, but he just complained that his shin now hurt, and what was that for? Sighing, I decided to continue the conversation and hoped that the noodle man wouldn't question us too much. We were just kids, after all. "Thank you for understanding," I said. "I really do appreciate it. But...if it's a logical explanation, wouldn't the people who don't follow the advice be the ignorant ones?"

Daisuke shrugged. "Who says your advice is the right advice?" He propped his elbows up on the counter - terrible manners! - and looked at me with an interested expression. "You've got a lot to learn, man. I'll bet you haven't been in the real world, going to normal classes like us kids, huh? Don't worry. Stick with me and you'll be fine. The others'll warm up to you in no time. By the way, are you gonna finish that?"

I pushed my half-eaten bowl to Daisuke absently as I looked back at him. How curious! I had never considered that my advice would be wrong - I always believed that it was just how logic worked. It was the same as mathematics. Why did two and two equal four? That's just how it was. And that's how I had been making all my decisions. As Daisuke shoved my leftovers into his face, I stared up at the short ceiling. The light from the paper lanterns made the dark brown wood look golden, and I let myself be appalled by how something as simple as light could change one's perspective of an object. It occurred to me that I, too, could be like this place. I used to be dark, foreboding, the essence of misunderstood; I was menacing. But now that the light was on me, I sincerely hoped that I was someone who could be liked. That's all anyone really wants, isn't it? Daisuke finished eating my bowl of ramen, and although I had my wallet out before he did, he shook his head and paid the bill. "Thanks, mister! Great noodles as usual!" The man bowed slightly and laughed as we left, beckoning us to come and visit again soon.

"Anyway, Ken, don't worry about it," Daisuke said, punching me in the arm lightly. I rubbed the spot. It didn't really hurt, but it seemed appropriate to acknowledge that he had done so. "You'll be fine. They'll lighten up. You're a nice guy! I know it. I'm sure that at your very core, you're a really, really kind person."

He pushed his thumb into my chest lightly with a bright grin. I took a deep breath and smiled back. I felt light, somehow, like I could fly away. I thought about Wormmon; I couldn't wait to tell him about my day in Odaiba. He would be so proud of me. I wanted to tell Osamu, too. I could finally live my own life. I hoped that he was resting peacefully in heaven, and that he was watching me, and that he would be happy for me as well. And my parents! I would tell them right away! After I'd worried them for so long, they should rest easy knowing that I had good friends watching over me, and I them.

Daisuke chatted with me all the way to the train station, where he saw me off. "Visit again soon!" he said, shaking my hand. "If not in Odaiba, I'll catch you on the Digital World. We'll all be waiting. And I'd better not catch you worrying."

I nodded and smiled again. I wanted to hug this boy, this boy who was not afraid of befriending someone who had so recently been their enemy. But I stopped myself. I'll cross those lines when I knew him better, when I knew everyone better. For now, I'd have to work on becoming less of an ignoramus. After today, I'm so happy that I was given another chance. And I'm even happier that I took it. I've gone through a lot, and there's much more to come, but I won't be alone. I'll have the Digidestined by my side - Iori, Miyako, Takeru, Hikari, and Daisuke. I'll have Wormmon. I'll have my family. That's all I really need - and maybe, just maybe, that's all we really need to save the Digital World from further peril.

I've made my mistakes, and I've traced my steps up to this point. I hope that's enough to get them to see the real me. Hand in hand, we'll save our Digital World together, as friends.

I might not understand people now, but I will - I absolutely will! Thank you, everyone. I'll do my best. Please accept me. I want to shine. I want them to see me for who I am now, not the person I used to be. I want them to see me in a different light. I want them to be my friends - these precious, precious bonds we make can only be strengthened.

~END~


End file.
